An author writes an inner child exercise, and discovers a horrible incident with his grandmother when he was eight years old that locked up his writing for many years.
On Thursday, April 24, 2008, I woke up knowing it was time to do the written inner child exercise I had been preparing for. I went to the Fort Worth Library, sat down at a table in the back of the book stacks, and began to write. The rest of the incident with my Grandmother (who we called Mamaw) came out. It was chilling. Once again I sensed I was talking to a terrified eight-year-old child:
“Danny?”
“Yes?”
“It’s me. I’d like to talk to you. You know, about what else happened with Mamaw. You remember, I told you last week I’d like you to think about telling me what else happened with her. Are you ready to talk?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Danny, I know this will be painful for you. It’s not going to be a pleasant memory, I can already sense that.”
“No, it’s not. That’s for sure.”
“But you remember what I’ve told you before — that talking about these old ugly things help them go away so you can be more free to feel the joy of your writing? You want to do that, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah, for sure!”
“And you understand more and more that people really need to be able to read what we write, to hear what you say?”
“Yeah, I get that. But that makes it more scary.”
“Because all the stuff Mamaw told you gets closer to happening?”
“Well, yeah, if people read my writing, they might like it, and I’d get famous, and then, you know.”
“What? Tell me again.”
“They would call me crazy and lock me up.”
“But those were all lies — remember us talking about that?”
“Yes, but it’s hard to remember. She said it so much.”
“I understand. Well, we will just keep working on letting you see how what she said was all lies, and won’t happen. OK?”
“Yeah, OK.”
“Remember, it’s all about getting back to the joy of writing.”
“OK.”
“Danny? Are you ready to talk about what else happened?”
“Yeah, I guess so. But you promise I won’t get hurt if I tell?”
“Danny, I promise. I will take care of you. I won’t let you get hurt. But remember, it was all lies — so if we say it out loud, we’ll be able to see it and hear how stupid her lies were.”
“Yeah, OK.”
“Do you remember the Dracula movies?”
“Yeah, they were scary.”
“Well, you remember how Dracula could never go out in the sunlight? If he did he would wither up and die?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, this is like that. If we expose Mamaw’s lies to the light they will wither up and die.”
“Cool!”
“Mamaw will not be powerful any more. She will melt like the Wicked Witch of the West did when they poured water on her. She will go away and won’t be able to hurt us any more.”
“Way cool!”
“Now, the last night you were going to stay with her Mamaw took you to Sycamore Park, to play miniature golf. Breathe, Danny!”
“OK, yeah, but this hurts to think about.”
“I know. I’m sure it does. But only for a little while, and we can be free of this. So Mamaw told you Dr. R. could have you committed to an asylum, right?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know what an asylum was, but just the way she said it I knew it couldn’t be good. But there was no way I was going to ask what it was.”
“Something else happened that night, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me?”
“We drove home, and Mamaw was all happy and giggly. Until she started talking about having to take me over to Grandmother Justin’s the next day. Then she looked a little sad, and a lot angry.”
“Why do you think that was?”
“She said she didn’t like them over there because they thought they were better than her. She didn’t like them a lot. We got home, went into her house, and she asked if I really understood about what Doctor R. could do to me. I wasn’t sure why she kept talking about it, or what she wanted me to say. So I just kind of nodded, and said “Uh, huh.” I guess she didn’t like that. She said she needed to show me what it would be like to be in an asylum. She had been inside one before as a nurse, and she knew what they were like.”
“How did she look?”
“She was smiling but she had kind of a funny look on her face — kind of like that guy who used to play Dracula in the movies. Really creepy.”
“OK, so what did she do?”
“She took me in the back bedroom, where I stayed, and opened the closet door. She said they would lock me up in a room about that size and leave me in there for a long time.”
“How did that feel when she was showing you this?”
“I was horrified — it looked real scary to be closed up like that.”
“What did she do then?”
“She said I needed to know what it felt like, so she told me I needed to go in the closet for a while.”
“How did you react?”
“I went cold and numb and my stomach hurt. I told her I didn’t want to do that.”
“What did she say then?”
“She said if I didn’t do what she said, she would call Doctor R., and they could have me committed, locked up in an asylum for a couple of days, just to show me what it was like. She said doing this wouldn’t be nearly as bad. And she was doing it for my own good.”
“What did you do?”
“I went into the closet, and she closed the door behind me.”
“Did she lock it?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t remember it. I think the door didn’t have a lock. But she told me to think of it like the door was all locked up, and I couldn’t get out.”
“What happened then?”
“I was standing there, and there was a little strip of light under the door, and then I heard her flip a light switch, and the light went away. And it was really dark.”
“What did you do then?”
“I pushed aside some shoes and sat down in the corner, with my arms wrapped around my legs. I couldn’t understand why she was doing this. I felt numb — too numb to cry or get up. And I knew I didn’t dare open the door and leave, or much worse would happen to me. So I just sat.”
“Was it quiet?”
“No, I could hear the TV going next door in Mamaw’s room, and occasionally I could hear her laughing.”
“How long were you in there?”
“I don’t know, it felt like forever, but I guess it was a couple of hours. I think she came and let me out before she went to bed. I heard the light switch, and saw the strip of light under the door, then she opened the closet door, and the light was real bright. She told me I could come out now, and it was time to go to bed. She said she hoped I had learned the lesson — not to ever be a famous writer, or really bad things would happen. I just nodded, and she left, closing the door behind her.”
“What did you do then?”
“I got in bed, but I couldn’t sleep.”
“OK, I can imagine. What was going on for you?”
“Well, I kept thinking about that closet door. I couldn’t see it with the lights off, but I kind of could see it in my mind still. It was real scary. So I just sat on the bed with my arms wrapped around my legs, looking around and listening.”
“Wow, Danny, that must have been really scary.”
“It was, it was so scary.”
“Could you go to sleep?”
“I guess I did, after a long time.”
“Danny, that was a horrible thing to happen to you, and I’m sorry you had to go through it. You’ve been very brave to tell me about it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome”.
“Danny, let me ask you something. Remember when you were in Farmington and you started having nightmares and being afraid to go to sleep?”
“Oh yeah, after I saw The Blob with Steve McQueen. That was so scary.”
“But wasn’t it also after that first summer with Mamaw, when all of this happened?”
“Oh yeah, you’re right! It was about then. I had to check under the bed every night for monsters, and couldn’t fall asleep.”
“Do you think it could have been because of the things that happened to you with Mamaw?”
“Yeah — yeah! I bet that’s right. That’s when the monsters came out.”
“But Danny, can you see how ridiculous were the lies she told you?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Well, think about it. Do you really think she asked Doctor R., and he would have agreed to talk to an eight-year-old boy about locking him up.”
“Oh, yeah, I see what you’re saying.”
“Danny, I guarantee you there was never any truth to any of the things she told you. Her putting you in the closet was horrible, and a very bad thing. But do you see how sick she was, to do something like that to a bright, gifted eight-year-old child?”
“Yeah, I see what you mean.”
“Danny, this was a terrible thing she did to you, and you didn’t deserve that. But you’ve exposed her craziness to the light now, and it can start withering up and dying now, and we can be free of it.”
“Like Dracula.”
“Exactly. You’ve been very brave to come out and tell me this. Very well done! Remember, this will lead to great joy and freedom — and safety. And that’s why we’ve been doing it. How do you feel right now, Danny?”
“I feel better. A lot better. Lighter. And my stomach doesn’t hurt any more.”
“Great, Danny! Glad to hear it. Now go rest. You deserve it!”
I sat there numb and worn out, but aware that the tough part was over. The truth had come out. Possibly the biggest and hopefully (fingers crossed) the last obstacle to my writing had been exposed to the light, where I could release it and have it no longer intrude, no longer control my world.
Photo Credit
“Locked Up” Derekskey @ flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
Patricia - Spiritual Journey Of A Lightworker says
I never will understand how someone like your grandmother can be so cruel to children, especially as young as you were.
Dan L Hays says
I hear you Patricia – her actions do defy all that is rational and sane – that’s why I’ve come to use the “crazy” word about her – ironic since that is what she was threatening me with. Thanks for your insightful comment!